The Girl with the Deceitful Smile
by inkpaperlove
Summary: Caught in a political battle Lady Hermione Granger fled her childhood home to seek solace with the Royal Family. She quickly learns that blood runs thick and deep, the snake in the grass may not be a snake at all, and her own reflection has become unrecognizable. AU Rated M for future scenes.
1. Chapter 1

***Author's Note: Does anyone actually read these? If you're reading this as opposed to just skipping through this then add the secret word *monkey* to your review. I want to start out by apologizing for abandoning all of my other projects, and I probably won't go back to them. Now back to this fanfic: I am looking for a kickass partner in crime (beta) so if you're willing PM me. Now, let us begin and I'll see you on the other side (:***

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**Chapter One: Red Lace **

_"Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting." _

_~J.M. Barrie_

HPOV

There is a time between consciousness and slumber, a time where for a few moments you are anyone and yet no one. You have no voice, but soft voices still whisper past your ear. Where there is no love there is no hate and you just exist. It may be the ideal way to live, cocooned in a type of world where this is no definition. The problem is that there is a time when everyone needs to wake up.

"Miss Granger! Got yer linens pressed for ye." My fragile delusion was shattered as the heavy oak door was pushed into the wall, followed by the round face of Hannah Abbott.

"Hannah I feel ill," I groaned, lifting my head off of my pillow to acknowledge her, "Could you inform my father that I can't attend the dinner tonight."

"Miss Granger," As corpulent as Hannah was, she had managed to cross the room and place her hand firmly on my forehead within seconds, "Ye ain't running no fever. This 'bout the tournament today? Ye sure can't miss all thee Lords and Lassies."

"Don't remind me Hannah," I scolded, slipping out of my sheets and tugging on a robe while Hannah struggled to remake my bed. Hannah Abbott had come to me when she was twelve. Her English was poor and her housekeeping skills were dismal at best, but she was a fantastic cook and had a kind disposition.

"Lord Longbottom 's going," She smiled, twirling a stray piece of baby blonde hair away from her face, "There's a fine gent if I e'er saw one."

"The red gown today Hannah, with the gold stitching. Neville is practically family and last I heard he was courting Lady Lovegood from Ravenclaw."

"Ditzy that one, ain't she?" She called from the depths of my wardrobe. I stifled a laugh at Hannah calling anyone ludicrous.

For the first time in generations, the House of Granger was hosting the Mid Summer's Tournament and a Gryffindor win would mean a week's worth of celebration and merriment. There would also be an engagement and one that I was trying particularly hard to ignore. The prior spring had been welcomed with blossoming buds and a promise from my father, Lord Granger, that the man who proved his worth with his lance would be an appropriate suitor for me.

The following months rushed by all too swiftly, my childhood home fading into the background of an uncertain and strikingly sinister future. Yes, I had been well educated and had a clever head upon my shoulders, but besides that I was the plain looking daughter of a Lord. I'm too skinny for the gentle curves of a woman and too tall to be considered petite, with thick mousy brown curls and too big for my face eyes. A part of me is terrified that marriage for me would consist of counting the gaps in my groom's teeth and the moles on his back.

"Hermione?" My mother's presence filled my doorway, a worried frown struggling to remain hidden on her face.

"I'm fine," the lie was clear and hung awkwardly in the air as Hannah popped out behind a mass of lace and fabric.

"Yer dress ma'lady," Hannah curtsied stiffly at me, and then my mother. She had always been uncomfortable around the Lord and Lady. She helped me into my underthings, her fingers fumbling with the buttons as she bit back the curse words I could see forming around her lips, clearly visible in the three-way mirror.

"I've got it Hannah," my mother stepped smoothly between us and smiled at the trembling young girl,

"You can go to the kitchens." With that, she scampered off, holding her bonnet tightly to her head in fear of it flying off in haste.

"We really should replace her," Lady Granger sighed as she fitted the corset around me. I knew she was just speaking aloud and was too kind to do so. The red gown came next, and with it the hundreds of intricate knots and ties. With Hannah it would have taken most of the morning, but my mother was nothing it not efficient. A few brushstrokes and a handful of pins later and my hair had been tamed into a bun at the nape of my neck.

"You look beautiful," she whispered, standing next to me across the glass. I knew that she could see it to, the striking resemblance between us. Though her hair had lightened with age and her curls had always behaved, we stood shoulder to shoulder with the same thin face and delicate finger bones.

"I'm doing the right thing," I replied, hoping that the words would come out sounding lighter and a bit more honest. My mom smiled weakly, brushed her hand across my face, and left the same way she had entered. With us there would be no good-byes or an "I'm going to miss you". It didn't need to be said because we both already knew.

A make shift grass field had been set up and the rickety stands were packed shoulder to shoulder. I sat at the head of the field, between Mother and Father. Hannah's blonde hair cropped up somewhere in the middle, occasionally waving frantically in my direction with one of her signature face splitting smiles. Butterflies did a little jig in my stomach and my fingers itched to tear apart the lace at my sleeves.

"Lords and Ladies from afar," a Gryffindor knight named Sir Finnigan had stepped into the center of the arena, "May I present to you the Gryffindor champions!" Whoops and hollers shook the air while pounding feet shook the stands. The men filed in, dressed in full armor save for their helmets which were neatly tucked under their arms.

"Ravenclaw!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"And Slytherin!" The following was met with boos and hisses from our side of the field. Hannah got too excited and nearly toppled out of her seat. The Slytherin men stood at the end each in black armor and scaly green chain mail. It was the usual crowd: Sir Carrow, Sir Dolohov, Lord Avery, Sir Crabbe, Sir Goyle, Lord Nott, and King Malfoy. They were all greasy, vile, narcissists and as was custom the greasiest most vile narcissist typically one. Their hungry eyes scanned the crowd for a young defile that they can defile.

The first joust was announced as Sir Thomas of Gryffindor versus Lord Avery of Slytherin and I realized that I was holding my breath. The battle for my hand had begun. Two steeds found their way to opposite sides of the pitch. Sir Thomas rode upon a roan beauty and Avery on an ashy mustang, each with their lance in hand.

At the age of 3 I fell into the lake near our manor. My nurse was nowhere to be found and if it had not been for a wandering stable boy, I surely would have drowned. At that moment I had no control over my life, not even the ability to scream. Gryffindors fell to Slytherin swords before my eyes and a chance at a content marriage was stripped away. The victor stepped forward off of his charger, approaching our side of the field. Time froze as he lifted away his helmet to reveal shoulder length blonde hair and an evil smirk. King Lucius Malfoy.

"I claim her," he laughed, "I claim the Gryffindor Princess." _Princess?_ It had been a nickname I had grown up with, but I didn't actually carry the title.

"Don't be ridiculous Malfoy," my father tried to laugh it off, "You're married to Queen Narcissa."

"You offered her up Granger," King Malfoy scoffed, "and I want her."

Bile rose in my throat and the world tilted on its hinges. The blood rushing through my ears seemed to be screaming one word, "_Run."_

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***YAY FOR CLIFFIES! Cookies inspire men and so do reviews. Now some of you are probably checking to make sure this is a Draco/Hermione and not a Lucius/Hermione (gross). And you're right this will be a Dramione and Draco should enter within the next couple of chapters. Patience young padowan. Now for some clarification, because Hermione told me she didn't have time to explain the political system. So here it goes. **

**There are 4 basic countries. Each one is around the size of Spain. They are all fictional. **

**Gryffindor **

**King: Harry James Potter **

**Queen: none **

**Prince: none **

**Princes: none **

**House of Weasley: **

**(Lord or Lady) Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny **

**House of Longbottom: **

**(Lord or Lady) Neville **

**House of Granger: **

**(Lord or Lady) Lord Granger, Lady Granger, Hermione **

**Knights: Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Creavey brothers, etc. **

**Hufflepuff **

**King: Ted Tonks **

**Queen: Andromeda**

**Prince: none **

**Princess: Nymphadora **

**Ravenclaw: **

**King: Xenophilius Lovegood**

**Queen: None **

**Prince: None**

**Princess: Luna **

**Slytherin: **

**King: Lucius Malfoy **

**Queen: Narcissa Malfoy**

**Prince: Draco Malfoy**

**Princess: None **

***These are not all of the characters and my political system doesn't really follow any others. If someone is addressed as Sir they are a knight, Lord or Lady if they are such. Your Majesty/Highness if royalty. They all convene twice a year at the Hogwarts council. Remember the secret word and go review xoxoxox inkpaperlove* **


	2. Chapter 2

***AN: Not going to lie, but the number of reviews I got for the last chapter was strikingly disappointing. Meh. Anyway, thank you Noodles2 for you review. Now please make sure that you are reading my ANs because I could be writing the answer to the universe, and if you are reading my ANs please add the secret word to your review for each chapter. This chapter's secret word is *42* (bonus point for the significance of the word). I'll see you guys at the end and until then I'll be twiddling my thumbs and waiting for (hopefully good) responses***

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_"A true hero is not someone who thinks about doing what is right, but one that simply does what is right without thinking!"_

_~Kevin Heath_

**Chapter Two: The Tunnel **

When I was six years old I didn't understand the concept of a title, or etiquette, or responsibility. I was just a little girl struggling to escape out of frumpy gowns. My childhood friends wore the trademark uniform of a village child, ruddy faces and torn trousers. We spoke the same language, elaborate tales of dragons and fair maidens with flowing gold hair. They understood me in a way that the maids, cooks, stable boys, and even my parents couldn't. Each day after I finished my tutoring, I would sneak out to the river where a gaggle of older kids caught fish with their hands and traipsed through the murky water. It was after I had ruined my third gown of the month, that Mother intervened, with words of fire that bit like ice.

"You are never to see them again," she had hissed. I wanted to run away back to the village, but my chin was caught squarely between her fingers. Mother was rarely cross, but these days she was quick to anger.

I found myself curled into a ball under my father's desk, releasing my anger into the yellowed pages of a worn book. The walls of my father's office were my haven, a sacred world that smelled of smoke and mint and polish. The door hinges squealed as they opened, followed by the muffled footsteps against the carpet. I could feel his eyes on me as I pouted, angry with mother for not letting me go outside and play. He didn't scold me for acting like the snot-nosed six year old that I was, nor did he try to bait me with some cookies from the kitchen. He simply perched his reading glasses on his nose and lit up his pipe. I could hear him laugh at the words he read, a deep rumble in his dragon's belly.

The bell for supper rang and my stomach protested as I made no move to leave. I watched his favorite tattered boots as they walked across his office, replaced the book, and left. I didn't hear the door latch shut, which meant that I was free to now go as I pleased. My legs had grown stiff from crouching and I had long since finished the book that I clung to my chest. I waited for Mother to come upstairs and send me to my room where I would surely starve to death. Sitting through the clinking sounds of china and enticing smell of roast bird irked me because it meant that they had forgotten about me.

Mother did end up coming upstairs, after the dishes had been cleared away and she had enjoyed a cup of tea in the parlor room. The tears threatening to spill over her lashes were unexpected and Father hovered in the doorway, watching warily. She curled me into her arms and apologized profusely. Father gave me a wink a gentle pat on the head while Mother quickly prepared me a bowl of broth. It was that day that I realized my father, a man of so little words, was fighting my battles. And now, 10 years later, he still was.

Uncertainty. It seemed suffocating as it pressed all around me. Nearly an hour ago Lucius and Father disappeared by his study while Mother wrung her hands in the parlor as she served luncheon to the contestants. The heavy oak door which used to mark the entrance to my sanctuary now seemed ominous and hateful. Occasionally I heard snippets of angry words. Mistress. Trophy. War. Father's words were soft and did not reach to my eavesdropping perch. He knew that I was waiting on the other side. King Malfoy, on the other hand, had no qualms about sharing why he wanted me. Or rather, what he wanted to do to me. War. The word tasted bitter, with the metallic aftertaste of bloodshed. Gryffindor was still rebuilding after defeating Lord Voldemort and his army. We couldn't afford any more loses. I had started a war. Images of my father with a sword through his heart and my mother in the garments of a concubine flashed through my retinas. Pain. Destruction. Annihilation.

It was my entire fault.

Within a few moments it would be decided. Either I would end up as a sex slave or I would destroy the Gryffindor kingdom. Father used to say that if you can't find your way through a situation then start digging a tunnel. I knew at that moment what I had to do. I was going to flee, I had to.

The halls had grown darker and I could hear the ghosts and forgotten memories whispering their goodbyes. The thought struck me that I was never going to come back, the anguish threatening to suffocate me.

"Miss Granger?" I found Hannah in the sitting room that adjoined my bedroom. She was picking out her sloppy cross-stitch, a large hole torn in the middle.

"When I leave I need you to tell them something for me Hannah," I whispered, watching her face scrunch in confusion, "Tell them that I had to. That I wanted to. Tell them that I love them."

"Where ye off to?"

"I'm going to go live in Hufflepuff for a while. I'll be back soon," the lie was evident across my face, and I hoped that the murky shadows of the room would dissipate it. Hufflepuff was the farthest away from Gryffindor and it would take them a couple of weeks to get there, only to scour the countryside of a land that I wasn't actually hiding in.

"Tis bout Malloy?"

"No," I replied firmly, "I need to leave. I don't belong here anymore." I swiveled into my bedroom, changing out of the extravagant gown and pinching a simple yellow peasant's dress from Hannah.

"Miss Granger, sure am gonna miss ye," Hannah had moved to the door, hugging herself in defeat.

"Call me Hermione," I tried to smile at her, but my face had grown numb. My whole body was unfeeling as I staggered around the room and grabbed a few things. A steady pair of shoes, my mother's locket with the Granger crest emblazoned on it, a small loaf of bread that Hannah had made and a few gold coins which I carefully wrapped in a silk handkerchief. Slipping the locket around my neck and carefully hiding it under my collar I surveyed my reflection. Hannah came behind me and neatly tucked my curls into a plain cream bonnet with surprisingly steady fingers.

"Yer much too purty Miss- Hermanine," her soft voice was laced with grief, "Like a princess."

_I claim the Gryffindor Princess. _

"Hannah, please don't tell them that I said goodbye," With a soft kiss on the cheek, I grabbed my bundled handkerchief and stepped back into the halls. Three right turns, a left turn, and two flights of stairs later and I was on the back lawn, the full moon lighting my path.

A carriage driver named Collin lounged in the stables, a cap drawn over his face. He had just recently been hired and I doubted that he would recognize me. Nevertheless I angled the bonnet to cast a shadow over my features and twisted my fingers into the peasant gown.

"Take me anywhere," I whispered, afraid that my voice would betray me.

Collin gave me a hard look, "It's going to cost you."

Holding out two shiny coins I replied, "You will speak of this to no one."

"Get in the wagon and wait," he jerked a thumb to a wooden cart that we used to transport produce, "I have to make a run in a few anyway." Vegetables and other fresh produce from our fields had been packaged into heavy wooden crates and stacked around me. Collin said nothing and I returned his silence. It wasn't until the wheels started turning that I realized this would be the final time I saw my home, and the wagon turned the corner before I could wish it a proper goodbye.

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***We did it! Or rather you did it. Now for a few questions for you guys: **

**Do you think what Hermione did was right? **

**Where do you think she should hide? **

**Why do you think Lady Granger was so upset in the beginning? The answer will be revealed next chapter. **

**No, I didn't accidently misspell Malfoy when Hannah was talking. Lucius Malloy is a reference. Anyone know where to? Brownie points to anyone that can guess. Remember the secret word, go review, and I'll respond to any of your guy's speculations. Till next time….inkpaperlove* **


	3. Chapter 3

***AN: My traffic stats weren't moving. And Draco wouldn't shut up about chapter 3. He's convinced he's going to be in this one, you see. That smug bastard. It's ok though, because he's great to look at. Anyway, the secret word is *reblog*. (Just spent my life on tumblr, no big deal) I'm going to sit here and wait for your reviews while scrolling through my dash***

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_"I've grown certain that the root of all fear is that we've been forced to deny who we are."_

_~Frances Moore Lappe_

**Chapter Three: The Adulteress**

Time is a funny thing, a relative thing. Sometimes it passes in a colorful blur and before you know it you're old and tired, regretting the times you forgot to smile and take notice of your surroundings. Sometimes it stands so still that you forget to breath. Our journey lasted several hours and I traded half of my loaf of bread for a gleaming red apple. The sun eventually reemerged, reflecting its glowing pink light off of a nearby lake. Somewhere along our route, Hermione Granger was lost among the dirt and dust. In her wake sat Jean Godfrey, an orphaned handmaid from Hufflepuff seeking work. Jean had neither suitors nor responsibilities. She had grown up in an overcrowded village and was taught simple chores. The thought of Hufflepuff left me thinking of dear Hannah who was now probably breaking the news to my parents. Perhaps they dismissed her, finding no use in a clumsy lady in waiting with broken English and shaking hands. The thought was disheartening and I forced myself to count the frays in Collin's cap instead.

I thought of the cap my father used to wear when he went on his long walks to protect his balding head. The way he buried his face in his hands when he was frustrated, or disappointed, or upset. The look on his face as he read, his eyes devouring the text as he licked his chapped lips. The soft pats to my mess of curls that said so many things with no words at all.

My mother had always been the one with the words, just not the right ones to say. They always had another meaning, a deeper meaning. She practiced everything with precision, her cross-stitching showing every tired frown line. When she was upset she would pinch her lips tightly together, till they turned the palest shade of white. Ever since I could walk she had pruned me to be the perfect lady, the perfect wife. _Just look at me now._

"Miss?" Collin turned in his seat, slowing the old dapple-gray mare that had been tugging us along, "Can you see it?" Through a clearing of spruces, I could clearly make out grey brick towers and crimson banners. Gryffindor castle.

"Yes," My voice was soft in awe as we approached. I had heard stories of the castle's magnificence, but I had never ventured there. We passed by the wrought iron gates, opting instead for the servant's entrance.

"I'm bringing the king's tribute," Collin explained, taking me by the hand and helping me out. I noticed for the first time how young he was, barely older than me in fact, "This is your stop." Dozens of men and women milled about shouting and waving and unloading their wares.

"Thanks," I gathered my skirt up heading back towards the main gates.

"Where are you going?" He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth for emphasis.

"Inside!" I yelled back. Turning to go I quickly found strong hands grabbing at my arm.

"You can't go in that way," He laughed, "What are you… the Princess?"

Heat flamed my cheeks and I rapidly shook my head, loose curls covering my eyes.

_Yer much too purty Miss- Hermanine. Like a princess. _

"You go through the servant's door," He pointed to a small wooden door in the shade.

"Right," I murmured and turned around towards where he pointed.

"Oh hey Princess," he called, "I hope that whatever you're running away from, it's worth it."

I found myself in a dim maze of tight halls and sweaty bodies. People sidestepped each other with trays balanced up to their noses. An old haggard man stumbled forward with a squawking chicken under his arm while a girl no more than twelve carefully balanced two overflowing baskets in her tiny arms. I once thought that chaos meant weapons and soldiers. The definition was quickly being reworked in my mind.

"For the last time Lavender," a shrill voice scolded, "You can't be the Queen's lady-in-waiting and try to seduce the King. She has requested your removal from the castle." I found myself pressed against a stained wall, avoiding touching anyone. The door next to me was cracked up and two women stood inside, eyeing each other with aggravation. An older woman with a strict bun and a stricter scowl towered over a dark haired beauty with a sarcastic disposition.

"Out," The older woman gestured towards the door, "And pack your things." The beauty rolled her eyes and after making a seemingly rude gesture flung the door open and stomped out.

"You," The stern voice snapped and I found myself face to face with the glowering woman. _She had caught me spying. _

"Me," I squeaked. I had faced several powerful delegates in my lifetime, but there was something about this woman that had me cowering.

"Ms. McGonagall," a small framed girl walked up, "What wing are they serving tea in today?"

"The West wing on the third floor," She retorted before turning back to me, "Who _are _you girl?"

"Her- Jean. Jean Godfrey," I smiled inwardly at catching myself before revealing my true identity.

"Are you able?"

"Am I what?"

"Able you silly girl. Can you work?" She worked her jaw in irritation.

"Of course ma'am. I can do whatever you wish," I wondered perhaps if I should curtsy. Hannah would always curtsy to Mother.

"Good, Queen Ginevra needs a new lady-in-waiting. The last one was…incompetent," Ms. McGonagall shook her head in frustration, "Come with me."

McGonagall had led me through several back hallways and staircases until we had reached a red mahogany door with elaborate carvings. She rapped on the door and when someone bade enter she pushed me in. Into a stunning man with shaggy black hair.

"Hello," He smiled, obviously amused as he righted me, "What do we have here?"

"The lady-in-waiting for the Queen, sir," I dipped into a natural and graceful curtsy. Two other figures hovered in the background, and a red-haired figure in a lovely gold gown stepped forward, her brows furrowed in skepticism.

"Please tell me you're not another one," she groaned, glancing at me up and down."

"Another what?"

"A seductress. Adulteress. King swiping nobody."

"I've never cheated on you Ginny," the raven haired man laughed. Oh Lord. He was King Harry which meant by default she was-

"Your Majesties," I blushed again, sweeping my gowns and grazing the ground with my nose.

"What's your name little one?" Harry questioned, grabbing the handle of the door and swinging it shut.

"Jean Godfrey of Hufflepuff," I watched his eyes light up with recognition.

"What part?"

"Er- it's just a small village a lit bit away from Badgeville."

"Well isn't this _cute_," the third figure spoke from the back of the room, "A little Mudblood peasant girl coming in and playing Princess with the Queen. I thought you had stopped with the charity projects Potter, or had you just run out of class?"

"Draco," Harry growled, "Play nice." The man stepped forward, eyes glinting with malice. His eyes. I had seen them before, mocking me from the arena. Grey as steel. Cold as ice. They were the eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

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***Ha. I was actually not going to end it here but I just had to add in Draco otherwise he wouldn't stop pestering me. I only put in his one line to spite him though. I'm a cruel girl. So the answer to the "Why was Hermione's mom a hormonal bitch" question (not quite sure if I worded it like that) is that Lady Granger was actually pregnant at the time. She lost the baby though. They were going to name her Jean, after Hermione. So now for the question of the chapter: **

**What will Hermione's reaction be to Draco? **

**You guys know the secret word and what do with it. I'm going back on tumblr…xoxoxo inkpaperlove***


	4. Chapter 4

***AN: Thank you Rattman for your guest review. I agree, Ravenclaw would have been interesting but then we wouldn't have had any Draco action (;. Also thank you to my fantastic reviewer and my now verbal lurker Noodles2. You guys rock my socks (corny I know). So let's make the secret word *socks* shall we? Now go run with it while I count down the days till I become a cat lady***

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_Painted red, my eyes are burning! And still you hide behind the waves! Your silence is haunting! Your words relentless, Burying in!_

_~Asking Alexandria_

**Chapter Four: The Peacock **

My stomach churned and the room swam around in a whirlwind of embroidered throw pillows and purple wall paper. His eyes. Brewing with arrogance and teeming with all of the crushed hearts he had stolen. They had born witness to every lie that had graced his perfect lips and they judged every action they discerned. They were eyes that saw every dusty corner of your soul. They manipulated people with falsehoods and deceits. They were eyes that dared you to turn and run and challenged you to stay.

"Draco, you've dazzled her," Harry noted with a low snicker, earning him a sharp elbow jab from Ginevra.

The silvery blonde snorted, "Please I'd rather die with no manhood than stick it in _her._"

Queen Ginerva gasped and turned a sharp shade of puce, "Malfoy you apologize or I _will _cut off your manhood and put it on a pike by the castle's gates."

"Ginevra," Harry rumbled a warning, which didn't seem to daze her. Women didn't speak out of turn with such menace save for when they were surrounded by thick walls in the comfort of their bedrooms. We were weak, mild, and dependent. We quoted poetry and sketched flowers. We did not threaten to-

"I mean it Malfoy," she snarled.

"It's fine," a small voice within me whispered, eyes burning a hole in the carpet by my feet. Bold Hermione looked skeptically at the new Jean. Hermione would have had a snappy retort that stung like a knife. Jean was compliant and courteous.

"I bet it is Mudblood," Draco smirked, "You're used to rejection."

That sneer. _I claim the Gryffindor Princess. _Hermione roared, consequence be damned.

"And I assume you think it's better to prance around like a presumptuous peacock, fawning over anything in a skirt? I disagree. It's degrading and loathsome. You call yourself a man, but I see you as a coward. Too low to see anything besides dirt and your own slime," I could feel my face flush angrily with heat and Hermione sat back in her little chair, applauding my efforts. The King and Queen looked between the bastard and me, shock evident on their faces.

"Let me tell you something Mudblood," He stepped forward, voice seething with menace, "In this room you are protected by powers that are above me. Step into my kingdom and I'll be sure to have that tongue of yours on a chain around my neck." His eyes. He was just inches from my body, so close that I could count the pale lashes lining them. They had become the most deadly shade of onyx, a storm cloud on a summer's night.

"K-kingdom?" Jean had returned out of her slumber and brought her signature squeak of a voice with her.

"Kingdom," Those eyes challenged me, ripping my very being. I refused to back down and held his gaze despite my obvious discomfort.

Harry suddenly began laughing, "I like her Ginny, and you should keep her. Let's go Draco, we still have business to finish."

An hour later I found myself sitting in one of many of Ginny's parlor rooms, nursing a mug of tea. Ginevra was the daughter was the daughter of Lord Arthur, one of the most powerful Gryffindor lords.

"So Sir Draco Malfoy is the…"

"Prince," Ginevra shrugged, "Of Slytherin." I choked on scalding tea, burning the roof of my mouth.

"_Slytherin_? Why..how..?"

"We know he's not a spy. Malfoy would never call Harry a friend, but he's been hanging out around here since he was a kid. He's jealous of Harry and spends most of his time here brooding before something happens and he storms out."

"So why would he come back?" I imagined a younger Draco mulling around empty hallways with angry and bitter eyes.

"It beats living in the Slytherin castle, or the Malfoy Manor with his aunt, Lady Bellatrix," Ginny sat up and eyed me appraisingly, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course ma'am," Jean smiled sweetly and I took pride in my submission which contrasted so starkly to my previous outburst.

"This is life or death, Jean," Ginny whispered, "And I trust you because I want to be friends with you. You want to be my friend, right?"

Friends. With Ginevra Potter, the Queen of the Gryffindors. I couldn't help but smile to myself as I nodded.

The room that we entered was full of murky shadows, fading in and out of the walls as if by magic. A watery basin balanced painstakingly on a pedestal sat stood at the center of the room, a lazy blue vapor clinging to its surface.

"A great warlock gave this to Harry years ago," Ginevra whispered, "It's called a Pensive." She grabbed my arm and pulled me over to its flickering surface and gently dipped her hand into it. The room tipped on its axis and I found myself lurching into the water.

_Blood. The small boy could smell it in the air, it left a burning aftertaste in his mouth. _

_"Draco," The boy lifted his head to meet the bored eyes of his father, "do come see what our lord has brought us." Bodies. Draco could see them now. A man and a woman with their dying pleas still fading from their faces, arms looped around each other, slumped carelessly against the wall. _

_"Mommy?" Draco turned to face his paled mother, who sat stiff in her chair, chin quivering. _

_"He's just a boy Lucius," she cried out, pleading to her husband. _

_"Silence!" Lucius growled, sending a stinging slap to his wife's face, "Now Draco." Draco turned away from the silent tears of his mom and began timidly walking forward to a high backed chair. There were many things that Draco was unaware of. He didn't know that Lord Voldemort was planning on overthrowing King Grendelwald with the intent of becoming king himself. He didn't know that his father, who had lost the money that came with his title, was entirely dependent on Voldemort's outcome. He didn't know that his mother had miscarried twice in the past year because her body was too stressed to carry a baby. He didn't know that at the age of six, Lord Voldemort had a plan for him. _

_"Come child," the voice was high and raspy, surreal even. Draco didn't understand what man could have a voice like it, "Come sit by the fire. Come see what I have given you." _

_Draco could see her now, sitting at the lord's feet, bound and gagged. _

_"I have brought you a pet Draco. You may do with her as you please," Voldemort cackled, a noise that sounded just as evil as his voice. _

_"Pet," Draco liked the way that his voice looped around the word with a soft pop of the "P". _

_"I have given you something now, Draco. So you must repay me." _

_"Pet?"  
"I need you Draco. I need you to kill Albus Dumbledore." _

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***DUM DUM DUM. So what do you guys think of Draco's new pet? Who is she? What about Hermione's outburst (You go Hermione. You go). Now please remember that Hermione and Jean are the same person, but they're two different personalities that fight for dominance (or rather, Jean fights to be submissive). Wow. This isn't a BDSM fic…. Gah. Anyways remember the secret word and I'll going to go curl up in my sock drawer. No big deal….inkpaperlove 3**


	5. Chapter 5

***AN: Hey you. Yes you. Guess what? *Chicken butt* ß Now you know what to do with that dear reviewers. So Draco is sitting on my couch with me. Pissing me off, per usual. Apparently I didn't write enough about him last chapter and I have to make it up with Chapter Five. I told him to fuck himself. So I'll wait for you to conclude your reading of this chapter and until then I'll be sticking Draco's manhood on a pike. YOLO.***

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_"To err is human, to forgive, divine."_

_ ~Alexander Pope_

**Chapter Five: Gone**

Slumber wrapped itself around me, whispering sweet nothings in my ears. Ginevra had supplied me with a small room off of hers with a goose mattress and a rickety desk. The bed hadn't been made up for me and it felt strange to pull the sheets down and slide between them without Hannah demanding if I needed help. Hannah, with her toothy grins and flushed cheeks, who made cakes so fluffy that you had hold them down so they wouldn't fly up to the heavens. It seemed so distant and unreachable, my former life. Everything in my world had been ruined by a sneer and some grey eyes. The Malfoy eyes.

Draco.

Ginevra hadn't spoken to me after our trip to the pensive, but I assumed there were many more memories floating under its surface. I still saw him as the arrogant bastard who had viewed me with such disdain and treated women like the scum underneath his shoe. It was the face of the little girl that haunted me. _Pet. _I understood Draco and his primal need to control everything, it was in his blood. It was his personal lifeline. He watched his father abuse his mother, he objectified women as property and once broken can easily be replaced. In short, he was a narcissistic prick, but he was also so much more than that. More than a monster, he was also a victim of his past with cleverly concealed scars. I knew without a doubt in my mind that every fiber of my being hated him, but I also couldn't find anyone to blame but King Lucius Malfoy. The man who had destroyed both of our lives, shattering my existence and redefining his son's.

"Your Highness?" I called from the parlor into the Queen's bedroom as I cleaned up the breakfast dishes. King Harry had shown up moments before and left looking distraught after exchanging a few words with her.

"You may now enter, Jean," The Queen stood in front of her mirror, hands planted firmly on her hips as she inspected the mauve gown I had helped her into earlier that morning.

"Is everything alright, Your Majesty?" Frown lines etched into her pale face and she was standing far too stiffly to be comfortable.

"Draco left," the words came out flat and without feeling. He left. _He's been hanging out around here since he was a kid. He's jealous of Harry and spends most of his time here brooding before something happens and he storms out. _

"Did I..?"

"Openly vex the prince of Gryffindor's enemy when another war is brewing? Yes," Ginevra turned away from the glass but refused to face me, using her idle hands to rearrange her brushes and hairpins at her vanity.

"I can leave by supper, ma'am," I had completely and utterly messed up. I should have been able to just brush off Draco's insults, let them lay so though that they couldn't bother me. Yet they did bother me, and brazen Hermione just couldn't ignore that.

"There's no need," the Queen responded, "He'll come back. He always comes back. You just haven't been here long enough to understand." Where was the woman who was desperate to be my friend and trust me? Who showed me a glimpse of Draco's life that had me evading sleep? This Queen was harder, with jagged edges and splitting seams. How long could she keep ahold of the charade? Or would it continue until she met her breaking point?

"I apologize for speaking out of turn. It wasn't like me," _It wasn't like Jean, you mean_, "It won't happen again."

"You'll find that with Draco you say things out of irritation that you wouldn't normally say, I understand."

"Do you mean what you said about his…you know?"

Ginevra gave me a knowing smile at my reference to Draco's "manhood", "It seemed to be the only threat that would get to him. Especially as he values it so much, the peacock."

I found myself laughing at her words and she soon joined me, clutching at her stomach and wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Miss Jean wherever are you from?" She dabbed a handkerchief around her eyes, "And are there more of you?"

"Like I said, Your Grace, a simple little town in Hufflepuff."

"I grew up with all brothers," the Queen smiled sadly; "I've never had any girl my age to talk with."

"Me neither. I'm an only child and Mother wouldn't let me play with the village children," I winced, at my quick spoken words, "I mean, she didn't like me playing with any children. She wanted me to grow up too fast." Like Draco, who had his childhood stripped away from him. Nobody objected to his harsh treatment, he had no protector, nobody who loved him enough to care. My father had fought to save my life, yet Lucius took to pity on the boy who was now a man. Draco was a prisoner of his family, a prisoner of his kingdom. Tongues on a chain be damned. There was something about him that was mesmerizing. A tangle mess of glossy locks that framed a strong and well angled face, towering over me and keeping me locked in place not with his toned arms but with his eyes. I cursed those eyes that hypnotized me, it laid a spell over my being and no matter what I did I knew that I was helpless against it. That was the way of Draco Malfoy.

"Do you think he'll be ok?" I found myself voicing aloud, guilty that I had driven him from his safe haven.

"Draco? He'll be fine. He knows how to take care of himself. He'll last a few weeks with his father and will come running back as if he never left."

I let the words sink in. Draco Malfoy, the enemy of Harry Potter, came often because there was nowhere in the world that could be better for him. He was an algorithm, the epitome of everything that I didn't understand. It was strikingly unnerving, his antagonistic ways rattled me to the core and I couldn't wrap my head around why I bothered so much. Why I even _cared_. He was the son of the man who destroyed everything and left not even the ashes behind.

Ginevra sat studying me with close examination, "He's going to come back with a woman, Jean."

"Excuse me?"

"A woman. Pansy Parkinson, his fiancé."

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***Fin. Of the chapter because this only the beginning. Draco managed to keep his manhood because he can outrun me. I think I'm going to set Ginny on him. Go review if you want an up close and personal with said body part….inkpaperlove* **


	6. Chapter 6

***Hey guys I have NO idea when this chapter is going to be posted. I'm writing it on Saturday, but my internet is down all weekend until Monday (scumbag thunderstorms). If this actually gets posted on Saturday then it's because my best friend took pity on me and let me come over to use her Wi-Fi. I guess you can say that we're friends with *benefits* (Go reviewers go!). Furthermore PlacIDwiCkedNEss asked a really good question about if there was magic and why Draco would call Hermione a Mudblood. So there are allusions to magic, but none of the current characters have it. So why Mudblood? It was still a relevant insult with a similar but different meaning. Mudblood now refers to a common village person, stereotypically of low intelligence and integrity. Mudblood is used because the villagers don't bathe often and are seen as dirty and below everyone else. Makes sense now? While you guys read this I'm going to randomly run around in hopes that the Internet gods will take pity on me***

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_"We are addicted to our thoughts. We cannot change anything if we cannot change our thinking."_

_~Santosh Kalwar_

**Chapter Six: Angles and Addictions **

Weeks passed without a word from the audacious and supercilious prince and I found myself relaxing into my duties. Rising before the first tendrils of sun even grazed the sky; I would start a small fire in the Queen's parlor and set about making tea. Afterwards I would swipe a piece of toast from the kitchens along with a wide surplus of fruits and flaky pastries for Ginevra- Ginny as she asked me to call her. Ginny arose shortly after the warm smells of baked goods filled her bedroom and I would help her into a thin robe, brushing her crimson locks while she sipped at her tea. In these moments, I was comfortable. I didn't think of Father and the way his knees ached when it was cold outside or Mother who had been embroidering a fiery green dragon when I had left. I didn't think of Hannah who struggled to lace her own shoes and I most certainly didn't think of Draco Malfoy who tore through me with a single glare. I wasn't necessarily happy, but at these times the aching in my bones and mind ceased and I was able to just push through it. _Keep your chin up dearie; you're a lady_, Mother used to remind me each night, her whisper tickling my ears as I curled up into my bed.

Now as I looked into the mirror I saw someone else, a figure that I couldn't recognize, couldn't place a finger on. She held herself differently, with sagging shoulders and a quivering chin. Her hair which used to gleam down her back in auburn curls now was a dull brown twisted tightly into a knot and hidden out of sight with a lacy bonnet. This new girl didn't spout philosophy, passionate words of anger, or witty retorts. Her vocabulary consisted of "Yes ma'am" and "Of course, Your Majesty". The dresses that had been given to me as hand-me-downs from Lavender hung limply off of me and the shoes on my feet pinched far too tightly. After Draco stormed out of the castle I really had become Jean, a meek and broken shadow of a girl. I didn't understand the effect that he had on me, why he was able to reduce me to dust disappearing in the breeze.

Both Harry and Ginny had watched me with curiosity after what I had dubbed, "the incident." I suppose that they were expecting another outburst. Of course, there were none as I had been anxious to prove that it wasn't like me- wasn't like Jean. King Harry quickly lost interest in the new person at court, though I wish that the same thing could be said for McGonagall. She flocked around like an overgrown hawk, squawking orders and waving her hands frantically for emphasis. Everything I did was wrong in her eyes, but if only she could see my real sins. They filled every pore, every crevice of my body. Each stray hair and each faked smile screamed of my treachery. As I stood in front of the reflective glass I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was going to burn in hell.

Of course, as with all good things, they come to an end. Sometimes it's bittersweet as you wait patiently for another door to open and another opportunity to fling itself upon you. Other times it shatters your soul until you're nothing more than a few scraps of cloth and some faded memories. That's what happened to me and in just two words, "He's back."

Bodies milled around the courtyard in panic, a stampede to bring order to the chaos. Occasionally I caught a glimpse of Queen Ginny gesturing in various directions with a frown on her face, or King Harry tugging at his raven locks out of frustration. Then I saw _him_. Standing in the eye of the storm as if it didn't faze him, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. I watched him from the window, my hands pressed against the cool glass. I still felt so stiflingly hot, the drops of sweat disappearing into the collar of my dress. _Run._ I so desperately wanted to run into my bedroom and hide, but somewhere a magnet was tugging at my legs and sending me into the courtyard, straight into an unsuspecting victim. A sharp corner prodded me in the stomach, forcing me to double over.

"Who are _you_?!" The body was placed with a high nasally voiced and I forced myself to sneak a glance up. A tall blonde stood in my path and I understood what had left its mark in my side. She was a woman built of angles and jagged points. Her fingers were talons and her cheek bones could cut glass. Her face was caked and cracked, her lip color bleeding out into the lines. Eyes narrowed into slits causing a reservoir of more tiny trails to appear around them.

"Queen Ginny's lady-in-waiting ma'am," I nodded a quick hello, unconsciously stroking the tender bit of flesh above my waist.

"Your _name_," she hissed in annoyance, "Or do I have to spell it out for you."

"She's no one," I had noticed the footsteps coming behind me until I could feel his hot breath on the base of my neck, "Some insolent little Mudblood from Hufflepuff." He was so close that I could have turned around and counted the seams in his tunic. So close that I could memorize the slight pucker to his lips. So close that I could give him a good smack on the head if I needed to.

Obviously the she-witch thought it was funny because she let out a cackle, "So I shouldn't have even tried talking to her. I doubt she speaks English."

"That's when you're mistaken," After weeks of hibernation, Hermione stood to attention, biting back a growl, "In fact I'm fluent in several languages. Ogre, troll, even bitch. That's how I was able to understand you."

I studied her face, watching as she made the connection, "Why you little-"

"Enough," Draco stepped between us, "Save your breath for someone who bathes, _darling._"

Darling. His fiancé. Of course, they were perfect for each other.

"Draco," the banshee but her hands on her hips and stomped her foot like a small child, "I don't want her here."

"She's none of your concern," this he said not looking at her, but at me. I damned those eyes to hell, where they could follow me. She smirked at me in triumph behind Draco, pivoted on her heel and marched out like she owned the world. Once again, they were perfect for each other.

"You," he snarled, grabbing my wrist and tugging me into the shadows of the castle, back inside. His grip scorched through my skin and ate away through the bone. I would have to put on a pair of gloves the next day to hide the evidence. Shoving me through a doorway, he slammed the door shut and had me pinned against the wall in seconds. Behind him I could make out the silhouette of a bed and wardrobe. _I was in his bedchambers._

"Look at me," he growled, his words fanning themselves against my neck. I did, and instantly regretted it. Those eyes pierced me in place, frozen and unmoving.

"Who are you?" The demand gave me a peak at two perfect rows of white teeth. I had been expecting fangs.

"Jean Godfrey," My voice was even, so masterful at the lie that I had created, "And you're Prince Draco Malfoy of Slytherin."

"To hell I am," Pulling himself away from me and slamming his fist against the door. Biceps rippled, face contorted in rage, he was a demon, he was my angel. My body missed the feeling of him pressed against me, the way every joint fit in with mine. It was in that twisted moment that I realized I would never be able to spend another moment away from Draco. I hated him so desperately that I wanted to scream and gauge out his eyes. Each one of his movements had my body reacting to him. It was so primal, so natural, and so sinful. He was my addiction, killing me slowly with every word he uttered. And I let him.

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***AN: Excuse me while I go fan myself. Hermione is VERY torn over her feelings for the Prince Douche. I don't blame here either *sends evil eye to the man who's been hogging my couch since this morning*. I really hope that I can get this hope before Monday and I may be making a Starbucks run later….inkpaperlove***


	7. Chapter 7

***AN: So it's still Saturday. I still don't have Wi-Fi. I still am craving a *Frappuccino*. (Do I still have to tell you guys what the **s mean? Or can you figure it out?) So the man with ****_those eyes_**** has decided to tell me that if I didn't start cracking on Chapter 7 then he would leave and take the "muse" with him. The peacock. If he left Hermione would too then my story would be missing its wit. So the Prince Douche stays. Lucky me. It occurred to me that I haven't been adding a disclaimer so here one goes. ↓* **

****Disclaimer: I do not own the brain power that was put into these characters. Nor do I have the money that came out of them. I do own a bowl of ice cream right now though. So same thing. Right? ****

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_"Pain is such an uncomfortable feeling that even a tiny amount of it is enough to ruin every enjoyment."_

_~Will Rogers_

**Chapter Seven: **

_It was in that twisted moment that I realized I would never be able to spend another moment away from Draco. I hated him so desperately that I wanted to scream and gauge out his eyes. Each one of his movements had my body reacting to him. It was so primal, so natural, and so sinful. He was my addiction, killing me slowly with every word he uttered. And I let him._

The predator lifted his head towards me, sniffing the air. Internally I had stepped forward and pressed myself against him, basking in the heat that his body emitted. Instead I stayed rooted to the ground, inspecting him through distrusting eyes.

"You left," I accused, my arms becoming a barrier between us as I crossed them around my torso.

"I did. To see my fiancé," he jeered. He was searching for a reaction, a sign that would prove our chemistry. I wasn't about to give him the pleasure.

"I guess that's none of my concern then. Excuse me, _Your Highness_, while I go to attend the Queen," my hand found the brass knob behind me and faking confidence, I attempted to make my escape.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me the truth," Then Draco was against me again, suffocating me, giving me life, then ripping it away. He was so sturdy beneath my palms that were splayed against his chest. I counted the heartbeats and each sharp intake of breath.

"Truth about what?" My body betrayed me and pressed against him eagerly.

"You want me," It wasn't a question, it was a dare. A challenge. A test. A trial.

"Never," I hissed, attempting to shove him off of me, but he was far too strong. Those eyes were much too powerful.

"Then it's mutual!" He shouted, and thundered out, taking every bit of me with him. Till I was no one. Dead in the middle of the room. _I want you. _

"Ginny says you're a marvelous embroiderer," King Harry smiled at me over a spoonful of potatoes.

"That was very benign of her to speak such compliments about me to our King. I learned when I was a little girl, when my mother taught me," I explained, trying to hide my own grin.

"Can you explain to me how you managed to pay for those materials?" I had nearly forgotten that the she-troll and Draco had been sitting across from me and I had been startled by the nasally octaves of her voice, "Did you have to sell your shack and trade in your pigs?" She was trying to bait me into an outburst, trying to remind everyone that I had come from nothing. _When in fact I used to be a lady as well. _I said nothing, eyes trained onto Draco's face as he bit back laughter. His eyes glinted with malice as he slid his hand towards Pansy's lap, surveying my expression as he did so. Damn him and his geometric fiancé.

"Lady Pansy," the Queen glared over a tower of rolls, "Can you explain to me how you managed to get so horrendously ugly? Did you have to fall down a flight of stairs and then get trampled by horses?"

"Ginevra!"

"I'm sorry Harry," she stood up abruptly, the volumes of her gown billowing around her, "But if I have to see this woman in court then I'm going to have to teach her some respect. Let's go Jean."

Ginny apologized profusely for the words of Lady Pansy, even before I had safely shut the door behind us. I watched as she paced around occasionally clasping her head in her hands.

"Has she always been like that?" I called from the fireplace where I was in the process of boiling water for our tea.

"Condescending? Malevolent? Manipulative? Horrendous? Yes, in fact. Draco and Pansy have been engaged since he was seven and the times that she decides to grace us with her presence I typically end up breaking something," Ginny sank into a cushiony armchair, ever so dramatically sweeping her palm against her forehead. She looked like a tragic heroine written by a lovesick playwright.

"There's going to be a meeting tonight," she informed me as I added her tea in a porcelain cup, "Apparently Draco has news."

∞  
News is relative. It's only news if it's new to you. This didn't change the fear that coursed through my veins, causing my fingers to shake and voice to stumble.

"It appears as if Lord and Lady Granger's daughter is missing," The three of them had gathered around a mahogany table covered in tattered maps while Lady Pansy had been left sulking in her chambers.

"Missing?" Harry pressed, "As in kidnapped?"

"It seems that she has run away from my dear father," Draco drawled, "It's rumored that she fled to Hufflepuff."

"And the lord and lady?"

"Grieving," I imagined my mother collapsed in our sitting room, clutching at her the handkerchief that she had spent nearly a week stitching tiny details into while my father clutched at her shoulders so his knees wouldn't fail him. Hannah would be sobbing quietly in the next room, blaming herself for not stopping me before it was too late. I had devastated their lives, much like Lucius Malfoy had destroyed mine. I heard the word, _mistress,_ and was transported to a day much like this one. A moment with my ear pressed against the door listening to a battle of wills.

"Jean you're from Hufflepuff," the King looked at me; his normally gleaming green eyes had turned grey with sorrow and exhaustion. They were a silent plea and I wanted to shout that Hermione Granger stood in front of them, picking at the seams of her dress. I didn't though, I bit it all back and Jean stepped forward into my body timidly.

"I am, sir."

"They are leading an expedition through Hufflepuff and it's imperative to find her before the King of Slytherin." _You've already found me. I was never lost, save for my mindset. _

"Absolutely not," it was the first time the Queen had spoken throughout the meeting. She had simply sat there, occasionally clenching her fist in agitation.

"Gin- it's our duty."

"Damn it Harry," she hissed, "I'm not giving you my lady-in-waiting to lope around the countryside after the Gryffindor Princess." _Princess. I claim the Gryffindor Princess. Yer much too purty Miss- Hermanine. Like a princess. What are you… the Princess? _

_Mother rocked in her chair working at embroidering a new set of pillow cases. Occasionally her hand would come down to play with my braid as I sat at her feet. _

_"Someday you'll be a beautiful princess," she smiled to herself, as if she held all of the world's secrets, "You'll grow up and have pretty things to play with to your heart's content." _

_"And a prince?" I smiled sleepily, being lulled by her singsong words. _

_"A dashing one, on a magnificent steed, one that has fought many battles and his hands are covered in scars. Don't worry though; you'll be able to see the light in his eyes." _

"I won't stand for it Harry," she continued, "We owe her nothing."

"Would you get over your childish jealousy?" Harry snapped. I could see the storm brewing in his face.

"If my father finds her, she'll be his sex slave until he kills her," Draco shrugged offhandedly as if he couldn't be bothered by the troubles of a lord's daughter, "And he's threatening war."

Ginevra ignored him and plowed on, "That has nothing to do with anything. You know that."

"Hermione Granger's life could be on the line," Harry stood and began collecting his things, "And you better hope that we find her. I'm gathering my troops and we leave at dawn."

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***Cliffy. I'm enjoying these. So I just guzzled down a double chocolate chip Frappuccino from Starbucks which is how I was able to post Chapter 6 and now Chapter 7. What do you guys think of the bedroom scene? What about the new Princess revelation? Is our dear Hermione actually royalty? Drop your review and let's see who gets it right! I'm going to order another frap and sit here and wait…inkpaperlove***


	8. Chapter 8

***AN: I want to start out by apologizing for not updating on Sunday. If you've been keeping updated with my Author's Notes then you'll know that I didn't have Wi-Fi all weekend. An AT&T man is outside my house right as we speak so hopefully I'll be able to update today. There's been a lot of speculation about whether or not Hermione is a princess, and many of you are very close. I'm going to let you take this opportunity to pop some *popcorn* and until then I'll just be crying in a sock drawer because Draco stole my bed.* **

****Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling makes a lot of money. I make pop tarts for breakfast. ****

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_"I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, great and strong! He made me love him without looking at me."_

_~Charlotte Bronte_

**Chapter Eight: Of Witchcraft and Blurry Vision**

Hatred. Loathing. Revulsion. Animosity. Abhorrence. Each word tasting more and more pungent in my mouth, despite my attempt to swallow them back. Less than a week had passed by since the she-devil had flown into my sanctuary in the guise of a lady. Even having to utter her name left my mouth feeling as if they had gargled rocks and spat them back out, Pansy Parkinson. The high pitched whine of her voice filled every corner of the palace, driving me into my chambers and effectively away from Draco. I told myself that it was a relief and that I couldn't possibly be jealous of the insufferable Lady Parkinson. It helped that I had other things to occupy my mind with.

_I'm not giving you my lady-in-waiting to lope around the countryside after the Gryffindor Princess._

My father used to call me that as his pet name when I was little. He would scoop me up into his arms and tickle my face with his beard, dark eyes twinkling. There was a sort of pull that came along with the word, a distant memory that I couldn't recall. I yearned for the answer that sat at the tip of my tongue, waiting for me to stumble over it. _Princess_.

"Jean," it wasn't a question, it was an order. I emerged from my bedroom and into the Queen's, careful not to walk too heavily or breathe too deeply. Ginny had been plagued with severe migraines that had rendered her tired and irritable. In the King's absence, her bed remained empty and she remained tetchy and unpredictable.

"Yes, Your Highness?" Her moodiness had thrown me for a loop as I could not smile because she was in such discomfort, but I couldn't frown either because her ache was so greater than mine. If I sighed I was being disrespectful and if I didn't show any emotion I wasn't empathizing with her enough. Struggling to keep a straight face, I counted the seconds in my even breaths.

"Don't be so short with me," Ginny sat up from her bed, narrowing her eyes at me, "I have no use for you today and Prince Draco has requested your presence for the afternoon."

"P-Prince Draco, ma'am?"

"Don't be daft," she hissed, "Now go before you manage to worsen my headache."

When I was thirteen I witnessed a public exile in the village square. He was nothing more than a threadbare boy with a raspy voice, unkempt hair down to his collar bone, a thick rope hugging his neck. I remember being transfixed by the child who was barely older than I, walking to his death like it was the easiest thing on earth. No screams or cries graced his busted lips. I recall the way his clothes hung off of him, the way his hollowed cheeks jutted out, the black death that was laced in his eyes. His crime was theft, yet life had already been stolen from him. He plummeted from the air like a limp puppet, his last breath still hanging in the air. For three years I have remembered that day, speculating about why he didn't show fear, didn't try to escape, didn't try to save himself. Now I could explain it in a word: numbness. I moved through the halls, though I didn't feel the steps. I wasn't fearful, I wasn't worried. I didn't even think. I just was. It was in this impassive state that I found myself knocking on the door that I had been pressed against just days prior.

Eyes.

They were the first things that I recognized when it opened. If I hadn't been so hypnotized by the silvery flecks I would have taken into account the rest of the situation. Or rather, the lack of. Pansy the Profligate was nowhere to be found.

"You came," he murmured, his voice was gruffer than usual and judging by the ashy tint in his face, he too was feeling ill.

"Of course," I crossed my arms in a familiar security blanket, "My Queen bade me to do so."

"Come in," I saw it then, the fire. It burned ever so brightly, ever so passionately, in the dark abyss of his pupils. It was that fire that left my heart racing and face flushed from lack of breath. His clothes were strewn over the room and with a sick lurching off my stomach I noted how tangled his sheets were.  
"Is Lady Pansy here?" My eyes trailed over to an adjoining wash room, praying she wouldn't emerge from it.

"No," I could feel the aggravation rolling off of him at the mention of her name. _He wasn't the only one. _

"Why, may I ask, am I here if I she does not need attending?"

"Clarification," then his hands were back on my wrists, as if his touch had never been erased from them.

"Is this Mudblood a clever little witch?" He demanded, "Does she think she is so astute because she can toy with the heartstrings of man? Is she applauding the effect that she has had on me?"

"I am no such thing," I hissed, struggling against him, "I haven't the faintest idea of what you are speaking about?"

"Look at you," he sneered, letting me go, "Just an ugly little thing. What did you have to do to do this to me?"

"I've done nothing but attempt to stay away from you," I retorted angrily, "I am not the predator."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" His eyes swirled with emotion, teeth bared, "_Preying _upon you? You watch me with that damn look on your face as if you can see through me."

"What do you want from me?" I gasped, his scent had left me winded and muddled. Each breath that I took sent my chest heaving up against his, biceps flexed against mine.

"I don't know yet. I'm still trying to figure that out," he leaned forward, my pulse quickened, my pupils dilated, and black spots appeared in my vision until everything went black.

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**AN: Sorry for the chapter being so short, but my computer privileges are being monitored. Things are going to get a bit steamy. The peacock is pretty proud of himself and has spent the past half hour strutting around my house. I'm pretty sure he traumatized him. ** **Does anyone want to house him for me? **


	9. Chapter 9

***AN: Wow. This is Chapter Nine you guys. That doesn't seem like very long, but I have never been more dedicated to a fic. I want to thank my 2,677 readers, 20 reviewers, 12 favoriters, and 35 followers. This particular story may not be the best, but you guys sure are. I would celebrate with some cake, but I wouldn't be able to fit into my *skinny jeans** **

****Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Hermione and Draco. I own a ratty pair of converse****

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_"Love is a durable fire in the mind ever burning; never sick, never old, never dead from itself never turning."_

_ ~Sir Walter Raleigh Sr._

**Chapter Nine: Ashes and Lies**

_"What do you want from me?" I gasped, his scent had left me winded and muddled. Each breath that I took sent my chest heaving up against his, biceps flexed against mine._

_"I don't know yet. I'm still trying to figure that out," he leaned forward, my pulse quickened, my pupils dilated, and black spots appeared in my vision until everything went black._

"Miss Granger!" Hannah's cheerful tone broke my slumber and I lazily watched her as she scuttled around my bedroom, flinging the curtains open, "Tis mornin' an' I've prepared ye breakfast."

"How long have I been back?" I whispered, as she set out the tray and sprinkled sugar over my toast.

"What do ye mean?" Her brow furrowed, "Ye've ne'er left."

"Of course I have, Hannah. After the tournament. After Lucius."

"You never left," my parents stood in my doorway, but their faces were wrong. Their smiles too tight, eyes too bright, they walked so jerkily, never blinking and never breathing.

"Ye've ne'er left," Hannah too began to smile and carried the tray over to me with the agility that I didn't know that she possessed, "And ye'll ne'er leave." They gathered so close around me that I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Hands gripped my shoulders and pulled at my hair. _You'll never leave. You'll never leave. You'll never leave. _

"Jean," I felt his eyes roam my body, hidden under emerald green sheets. Someone had unlaced my dress and I remained only in my under things. Candles flickered around a chiseled figure that had pulled a chair up next to the bed. I was lying in Prince Draco Malfoy's bed, practically naked.

"You passed out," he simply stated, answering my unspoken question, "A few hours ago." Eyes smoldering, hands roaming, lips searching, burning eternally, ashes to ashes.

"Did we?" I wanted him to tell me no, I prayed for him to say yes.

"No," his voice became startlingly flat, in defeat and with finality, "I'm going to go see to Lady Pansy." Pansy. His fiancé. Fate and all of its twisted irony was taking its sadistic tendencies out on me. What I had done to do deserve such a horrible development in my life?

"She'll be missing you," I kept my voice even, hiding the bitterness that was spiked in it, "Now if you will excuse me I need to get dressed."

"She's been pouting all morning. I wouldn't let her come into my rooms. I didn't want her to think that we-"

"Got it," I tightened my grips on the sheets, afraid that I might do something dangerous if I attempted to get up. Like kill the bastard or as Ginny had so frankly put it, _cut off his manhood and put it on a pike._

"This," he gestured between us, "Can't happen. I don't _want _it to happen. This will _never _happen."

"I guess that's good then," I sat up, taking large strides to the opposite side of the room while clutching his sheet around my body, "Because I won't let it happen. I'd rather have nothing than an egotistic, brooding, biggity little prince who won't even be able to define the world chivalry."

I tugged the peasant gown over my head, struggling with the loopholes.

"I'd rather have anyone than a screeching, unkempt, and rather nosy Mudblood," his tone became defensive and yet so lethal. _Mudblood. _

_I crouched in the middle of the crowd, clinging to my father's hand and hiding my face among my curls. Lord Voldemort stood at the front of it all, dressed in ominous black robes. Women and children were chained by his feet, naked and dirty. Each one had the letters "MB" painted on their foreheads. They were being auctioned off to the highest bidder. Mothers pled their cases to the crowd, clutching their babes to their chests desperately. A small figure took the stage, wide shining eyes gleaming with fearful tears. Father called out a number and she was deposited to us. Underneath the dirt and grime she had yellowy blonde hair and pink cheeks. Hannah. _

"You take it back," I snarled. How could he say such a thing when he was here and not in Slytherin? Did he not go against everything that Gryffindor stood for?

"Are you offended?" He sneered, "Would you prefer temptress? Seductress?"

"If I was tempting you, Prince Draco, surely you would know."

"I damn you," Pulse quickened, breaths sharpened, eyes narrowed, "I damn you, witch, for ensnaring me in your web."

"What shall I do now that I have you?" I was playing with fire now, loving the thrill, craving the burn. He shattered me and ever so sloppily pieced me back together again, over and over, until the pieces were just shards of broken glass.

"Tell me who you really are," I glanced away to avoid the eyes that ripped me in shreds, that made me wilt, made the blood rush towards my skin.

"Jean Godfrey of Hufflepuff," _Lies and fire, fire and lies. How shall my world survive? _

"You're surprisingly astute. You know you're way around the court. You aren't afraid to speak your mind to someone above you. You are an enigma Jean, the moth that doesn't fly to the fire, but to the sun. Now things are changed and I'm the moth and I can't help be pulled to you."

_He felt it. He meant it. He's ruined everything. _

"You're fiancé is waiting for you," I choked, struggling to keep my face emotionless. I wanted him to know the pain that the word had brought me.

"She is," He didn't make a move to leave, just kept his eyes trained on me. Those eyes that made me confident that I could spend my life just reading their watery secrets. The eyes that left their imprint on my skin and I understood the word temptress at that point. Though it was he that was tempting me. I needed to let him go, I couldn't let him go. We were caught in a warped middle.

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***AN: Not exactly a cliffy. So there you go. My skinny jeans still fit, and I am content. Also I would like to remind you all to take a moment today (9-11-12) to remember the fallen during the World Trade Center attacks. Even if you don't live in the States, please remember the 3000 victims that were killed in the attack. My thoughts are prayers are going out to all of the affected family and friends.***


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